Will you believe if I say my fate felt like a bad rom-com plot shoved down my throat without a script?
Because honestly, that’s exactly how it felt. Soone had decided, without my consent, that I was the star of the "awkward high-society brunch chaos" episode, and I was flailing like a fish out of water.
The two won stood at the entrance, and my brain imdiately short-circuited.
The older one had that violet hair I rembered from the interview, Grace Davis.
Yes, that interview Grace. The one whose resu alone could make anyone feel like they had accidentally walked into a NASA eting instead of a casual eting.
Her heels clicked against the floor with purpose, announcing her arrival like she owned the place....which, honestly, she probably did.
The younger girl behind her looked nervous, wide-eyed, like she was already regretting showing up. Cute.
Grace’s gaze swept over the room, landing on for just a second. She did not smile.
I felt my stomach flip. Did she recognize ? Calm down, Elena. Do not make a scene. Just breathe.
Behind her, Lily, quiet, calm, completely unreadable. She stood like a tiny statue of perfection.
She barely blinked, barely moved, like she was used to chaos but preferred to watch from the sidelines.
Her gaze flicked briefly toward Grace, and I could tell she trusted her implicitly. Then back to the room, calm as a monk.
anwhile, Grace’s violet-haired glare swept past everyone else, slowly scanning the table, finally landing on again. My pulse accelerated. My fork hovered uselessly in the air.
I tried to shrink into my chair, pretend I was invisible, but apparently, I have zero talent for that.
Nicole stood up from his seat and walked towards both of them. He first kissed Grace’s cheek, then took Lily in his arms.
Walking back, Grandpa Albert extended his hand, "Let have my great-granddaughter." Nicole, too, bent, but Lily did not budge from his embrace. Instead, she hugged Nicole, clutching his neck.
Both Grandpa Albert and Nicole tried to persuade her, but Lily was not having it. The girl had her arms around Nicole’s neck like she was welded there.
Her little fists clenched his shirt, her face buried into him like the rest of us were the enemy.
Nicole chuckled awkwardly, patting her back. "She is shy today," he said, as if that excused her flat-out rebellion against Grandpa’s outstretched arms.
Grandpa Albert did not look offended; if anything, he looked delighted. The man’s eyes crinkled with amusent, and he dropped his hand back to his lap. "That’s fine," he said warmly. "She knows where she is comfortable."
Comfortable? Right. anwhile, I was about as comfortable as a cat locked in a bathtub.
Because Grace had not stopped looking at .
Oh, she was subtle about it, I will give her that. The kind of subtle where she pretended she was adjusting Lily’s bag or smoothing down her skirt, but her eyes kept flicking toward , sharp and assessing.
I suddenly wished I had worn a paper bag over my head.
Dave’s thumb pressed against my knuckles again under the table, grounding , or maybe warning . I could not tell which. His grip had not loosened one bit since Grace walked in, like he sohow knew I was two seconds from combusting.
Nicole finally gave up trying to peel Lily off and returned to his seat with her still latched on like a baby koala. He sat her comfortably on his lap, and she buried her little face into his chest.
"Do not worry, Albert," Grace said then, her voice smooth, even, and just a little too knowing. "She warms up eventually. She just has her favorites."
Oh, and the way she said "favorites"? Like she was looking straight at , like I was so kind of intruder who did not belong at this table.
My throat went dry again. Perfect. As if I did not already look suspicious enough, now Grace Davis had basically put under a microscope.
I forced my fork to my mouth, chewing blindly, even though the food tasted like cardboard. Keep calm, Elena. Blend in. Do not give her anything to work with.
But of course, my acting skills were nonexistent. I could practically feel Vivian’s hawk-eyes noticing my stiff posture, the sweat collecting at the back of my neck, the fact that I hadn’t said more than two words since Grace entered the room.
"Grace, darling," Vivian finally said, breaking the weird little staring contest I was having with my own plate. "You are glowing, as always. And Lily, look at you, such a beautiful young lady already."
Lily peeked out just enough to give a polite nod before promptly hiding again. Smart girl. That’s exactly what I wanted to do.
Grace smiled politely, but her gaze still did not soften. She slid into her chair like she had done this a million tis, calm and composed, while I sat there vibrating like a nervous chihuahua.
anwhile, my brain was on fire with one very simple, very stupid thought: She recognized . She knows.
She clearly knew who I was, and now seeing here, she would know who I am and would know that though I belonged to this family, well, not technically, but it’s the important part.
The important part is that after realization, she would know the whole truth.
And if she said it out loud in front of everyone? I was toast.
Burnt, overdone, completely unsalvageable toast.
Grandpa Albert tapped his spoon against his glass, the universal sign for attention, peasants. The chatter at the table died down instantly.
"Well," he began, smiling around like the benevolent ruler of this circus, "since we have many new faces with us today, I think introductions are in order."
My soul whimpered. Introductions. Of course. Because sitting silently, blending into the furniture, was not humiliating enough.
I had to put my awkward existence on display, too.
He gestured first toward the head of the table. "You all know my grandson, Nicole Morris," he said, as if Nicole needed any introduction. Nicole sat there, holding Lily like she was the crown jewel of the evening, grinning like he had just won the lottery.
Nicole gave a lazy wave. "Pleasure, everyone."
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